


Step By Step

by Not_You



Series: The Frank And Joan Thread [2]
Category: Punisher (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dating, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fellatio, Femdom, Gags, Kink Negotiation, Light Bondage, Movie Night, Oral Sex, Sub Frank Castle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-10 14:47:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11693907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_You/pseuds/Not_You
Summary: Actually taking Joan out feels like a sacred trust, even if it's just to a movie.





	1. Chapter 1

Actually taking Joan out feels like a sacred trust, even if it's just to a movie. It's low-key and they can walk there and Frank does not have visions of the Aurora shooting dancing in his head and everything is going to be fucking fine. He takes deep, calming breaths the way Matt would want him to. They work pretty well, since the apartment is perfumed with whatever Joan has in the slow-cooker.

"I'm sorry I'm taking so long!" Joan calls from the bathroom, sounding so harried that he gets up and pads over there, resting his hand on the door like that will help somehow.

"We've got plenty of time," he says, and it's true. "Besides," he adds, more quietly, "whatever you've got on you're gonna look great to me." Joan doesn't say anything in reply, but lets out an embarrassed little squeak that makes Frank smile.

She emerges a moment later, and Frank gets to demonstrate the truth of his prophecy. While not conventionally pretty, Joan does always look good to him, and for an evening outing she has actually put in that fabled Effort. Through the arcane secrets of cosmetics, her enormous eyes almost glow, and she has that dewy, soft, natural look that Frank knows takes at least five separate products. Joan is never comfortable showing a lot of skin, but it's a hot night, so she's wearing a little sundress and a pair of capri leggings. The dress is one of those weird beigey neutrals with a touch of pink, probably rose taupe or some shit, and it does look great on her. She has a little heart-shaped pendant around her neck, made of what looks like real amber. Frank files this evidence of her jewelry preferences away for future reference, and smiles down at her.

"You look incredible, miss," he says softly, a little embarrassed to be using their brand-new honorific, but it's worth it for the way she smiles.

"So do you, sweetheart," she says, and takes his hand. Or well, his thumb, her hands are too small to really grab his. 

She lets him adjust it to really be holding her hand, and then leads him outside. The traps are already re-set, Frank has had time. He takes just a moment to set the door, and then they're on their way. It really is hot out, clinging and humid in the kind of way that makes the air conditioning more important than the movie. 

Joan had pitched this latest Austen adaptation like she was expecting to be shot down, but Frank likes Austen just fine. Besides, they both need something soothing. Action is out of the question for both of them, Joan is far too nervous for horror and Frank can't deal with anything bloody or ghosts, which narrows the hell out of his options. Joan usually goes to see children's films when she goes to see anything at all, but that means actual children everywhere, and she knows better than to do that to Frank. Now she laces her tiny fingers with his and chatters about the interesting casting choices while he walks slower than usual to match her short strides. Joan is actually pretty quick from a lifetime of keeping up with taller people, but he doesn't want to be a dick about it.

At the theater Frank pays, because this was his invite and he has nothing else to spend all his SHIELD money on. He gets a little dose of what he and Joan look like together when the girl selling the tickets slides her worried gaze from him to Joan. Frank does his best not to bristle as this high school kid checks his date for signs of abuse, and Joan is a big help, giving the girl the sweet, confident smile that Frank really wants to see more of.

"I think it's like dogs," Joan says, as they stand in line for a blue raspberry slushy for her and whatever Frank wants that won't spoil his appetite.

"Yeah?"

"People are so used to badly trained ones that large and powerful dogs make them nervous, since they're so destructive when they can't behave." She smiles up at him. "I know you don't have that problem," she says softly, "but strangers can't."

Frank can feel his ears turning red, and he just hopes nothing else is. "Maybe so," is all he says.

Once they're finally free of the concessions line, they find very good seats since this is the late show of the kind of movie people bring elderly relatives to, and Frank can just sit in the middle of everything in the sweet spot where the surround sound isn't too loud and eat an entire box of Sno Caps. It would have been Raisinets before, but now he can't touch those things without feeling like he should be sharing them with a pair of kids.

It's a little easier to stay in the moment when Joan puts the arm of the seat up to lean on him. They're early, since it makes Joan nervous to be late and Frank will probably never fully get off of military time, and they talk quietly through the commercials because no one cares about that. Not that there are even very many people to offend. More shuffle in closer to showtime, but by the time the trailers start, there are still only about ten of them. It's nice. Fewer possible threats, the practical impossibility of a stampede... He takes a deep breath and reminds himself to be present.

Naturally, with the movie being a woman-targeted period drama, the trailers are all for other crinoline sorts of projects, or family dramas. Most of them look terrible, but it's over soon, and within fifteen minutes Frank is pretty sure that this is the best possible adaptation of Lady Susan. It must be hard, working with an epistolary novel. About halfway through it, Joan eases into his lap. Frank has to strangle a whimper in the back of his throat, and he wonders how obvious the pounding of his heart is as he holds her close.

They sit there all the way through the end credits, and at last Joan stands, smiling down at him and offering her hand. They walk out the way they came, and Joan analyzes the movie while Frank mostly listens, adding his own opinions here and there. Talking about the cast turns into speculation about an upcoming Wuthering Heights adaptation, and Joan's blushing admission that while she hates the story and the character, her other celebrity crush is playing Heathcliff.

"Your other celebrity crush?" Frank asks, and she giggles. 

"You're the most important one, sweetheart." 

Frank can feels his ears turning red again, and grumbles incoherently rather than say anything. A moment later, he feels like an asshole, hoping that he isn't making Joan anxious. He looks over at her again, and she smiles, the same one she gave the girl at the ticket booth. "I've been meaning to ask," he mutters, "do you just admire the photography, or do you have any of the gear?" 

"I have some," she says, going slightly pink. 

"Good, if I offer to use my employee discount for you, you might let me do it." 

"I might," Joan says, going pinker still. Frank gives her his most encouraging smile, and kisses her tiny hand, glad that there's no one else around to make Joan feel awkward about it. 


	2. Chapter 2

The apartment smells even better than when they left, and Frank has not spoiled his appetite in the least. He sits at Joan's table and once again lets her feed him. It really does seem to make her happy, which would be motivation enough even if the food wasn't good. And the food is good, and Frank has to remind himself that taking thirds will leave him way too bloated for the occasion. 

Taking action for granted is for assholes, but things have been getting more physical lately. His hands are full of the sense memory of her smooth skin and delicate little bird bones and quick heartbeat, and when she crawls into his lap on the couch after everything is cleared away, he can't help making some tiny noise in his throat. 

Joan smiles, wrapping her arms around his neck. "All right, sweetheart?"

"...Yes, miss," he mutters, and then trembles all over as she nuzzles the side of his neck. 

It's ridiculous that such little touches affect him like this, but here he is, forty years old and feeling like he's about to go up in flames. His arms tighten around Joan, and he's careful to keep it from being too tight. She always feels so delicate, and he never wants to hurt her. He knows Joan is strong for her size, he can feel it in her grip, but he can't shake the idea.

"So," she says, one tiny hand unbuttoning his shirt, "when we talked about bondage..."

"If you want to tie me up, I'm fine with that," Frank says, his voice sounding gravelly to his own ears.

Joan giggles, straddling his lap and rising up on her knees to kiss the tip of his nose. "Yes, angel," she coos, "but do you really like the idea?"

"Yes, miss," Frank says, feeling cracked open and ridiculous and loved the way he always does when she calls him that. He's a little afraid that he'll come in his pants when she ties him up, or spontaneously combust or something. His lips are aching for Joan by now and he can't help whimpering when she finally kisses him on the mouth.

"Sweet boy," she murmurs into his mouth, and cups his face in her tiny hands, kissing him long and soundly, in complete control.

Frank didn't even mean to just melt like this, but here they are, and all he can do is clutch at her and make helpless, hungry little noises in the back of his throat. Joan is always so shy until she gets going. It's like the second she can be sure that Frank does take her seriously, all that anxiety gets out of her way for once. Once she has Frank reduced to a trembling, moaning mess, she slips off of his lap and gently tugs at the collar of his shirt.

"Come with me," she says, and really, she didn't need to say anything. 

Before Frank even really knows what he's doing, he's on the floor. Kneeling at Joan's feet is as good as he always thought it would be. She gives him a look of concern, then realizes that he's doing this on purpose, and smiles, stroking his hair. "Such a good boy," she says, and he shivers, biting his lip to keep back some sound. He crawls to Joan's bedroom like he has done it before, and it feels right to keep his eyes down, to just watch her dainty feet on the carpet. One foot in front of the other. He could follow her forever.

Of course, there's not that far to go, and soon Frank is in Joan's bedroom again, soothed by the scent and the softness. Hardly anything like this has actually happened in here, but feeling safe like this just makes him melt even more. He has heard about subspace, and is starting to think he might be in it.

"Wait here," Joan says, once Frank has reached the fluffy rug by her bed. 

He obeys, gripping his wrists behind his back. There’s no real protocol for this, but it feels right. He keeps his eyes down and just keeps breathing as Joan rustles around for a few minutes. She warns him when she's going to leave the room, and kisses him before she goes and when she comes back. 

"All right," she says at last, and Frank stands to take his place in armchair in the corner. 

There's a towel on the seat, and Joan is down to her bra and leggings, holding a fistful of black silk scarves. The bra is white with just a little bit of pink lace, and Frank feels like he could build a religion around it. Joan smiles down at him, kissing him again before unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way. She doesn't take it off, just pulls it open, and for some reason that makes Frank whimper and get harder. 

Joan smiles, pressing a kiss to his pounding heart. "Put your hands on the arms, sweetheart," she says, and he does. 

His sleeves are already rolled up over his forearms, so she can carefully bind his bare wrists to the padded arms of the chair. The scarves are soft and strong, and that just helps them feel like an extension of Joan's hands. Once they're both in place she takes a moment to kiss him and stroke his hair, soothing him a little. He doesn't feel bad, just fragile and amped up and so good with Joan's hands on him.

"Good boy," she says, as his breathing slows down a little and he sinks more into this strange, warm sweetness. "You like staying where I put you?"

"Yes, miss," Frank whispers, and then bites his lip to keep back a quiet moan as Joan coaxes him to raise his hips so she can work his pants down. 

She leaves them right at the knees, so they're another binding, and then ties his ankles to the legs of the chair. He could probably get out of this, but he has seldom wanted to do anything less. She runs her hands over all of his exposed skin, carefully avoiding his cock, and then leans in to kiss him again, purring as he moans into her mouth.

"I want to suck your cock, darling boy," she says, and Frank can feel himself flushing down to his collarbones with arousal and delighted shock to hear Joan say something like that.

"Please, miss," he gasps. 

Frank had thought this would just be Joan touching him, maybe a handjob, and that thought had been a fucking incredible one. Now he has no idea what to do and it's probably for the best that he's just supposed to stay where she put him. He can do that. Joan smiles and pulls a condom out of her bra, kissing her way down. Each little touch ratchets Frank higher, and by the time Joan is kneeling in front of him he has his teeth clenched to keep back desperate, needy moans. 

Joan looks up at him with big brown eyes and smiles. "Should I gag you so you're not distracted?"

One of those moans escapes despite Frank's best efforts, and he whimpers, "Yes, miss, please, please, please..."

Joan stands, leaning in cradle Frank's face against her chest and she's still wearing her fucking bra and Frank whines dismally. She hushes him and tells him to be a good boy and to wait just a moment. It feels like forever, but for Joan he can do it.


	3. Chapter 3

The gag is a black rubber ball, and Frank can't take his eyes off of it as Joan gently explains that they'll do a test bite to make sure that it's comfortable, and that he's going to need a safe signal, since he won't be able to talk. She sees Frank's focus on the gag and cups his chin in her free hand, making him meet her gaze.

"Frank," she says, and the reproof is very gentle but still makes Frank feel like crying because he wants so badly to be a good boy. "It's all right, sweetheart," she says. "I just want to keep you safe."

"Yes, miss," he breathes. 

Stupid and syrupy and needy as he feels, he copies the safe gesture she shows him, and takes the prescription vial she hands him, so he can drop it if he needs the safe gesture and she's not looking. Only after Frank is completely clear on that does Joan press the ball gag into his mouth. It's resilient and satisfying to bite onto, and it fits his jaw just fine. 

It feels so good that he doesn't want to let it go to tell Joan that yes, it fits. "It's good," he goes on, his voice a little frayed around the edges already, "please, miss, please--" she pushes the ball back into his mouth, and this time she keeps it there, buckling the strap as Frank moans and squirms. 

He can feel his heartbeat in his cock now, and when Joan casually pinches his nipple his head drops back and his thighs shake. Joan makes her slow, slow way down again, along his neck to his chest and Frank is groaning around the gag. He's not even the same kind of desperate anymore. Now he's willing to ache as long as Joan wants him to. For a moment he almost wishes that he could tell her that, and then Joan bites one nipple and pinches harder and he lets out a low cry that's loud even muffled and is glad to be gagged. 

Joan smiles up at him for a moment and then just takes her time over his chest. Frank can only assume that the hair is 'a feature, not a bug,' to use Phil's words, the way Joan nuzzles her face into it. After all their mutual reserve, she just bathes in him, and he can't really do anything but groan and try not to break the chair. It gives out a dangerous creak as she makes her slow way lower, and Frank freezes, breathing hard through his nose and forcing his hand open. He keeps the other one locked around the pill bottle, because in no way does he want this to stop.

"Good boy," Joan says, taking his hands and kissing the palms. "I like this chair." 

Frank whimpers and makes himself go limp. With the usual exception in situations like this. He can feel his heartbeat in his cock, and when Joan rolls the lubed condom onto him he welcomes the slight dulling effect, because without something to hold him back there's a very real chance of coming on Joan's face without her express permission (invitation, it's not really Frank's thing) and that is completely unacceptable.

Joan giggles like she knows exactly what he's thinking, and rubs soothing hands along his thighs until he has a better grip on himself. Once his breathing is more even, she leans in and gives him an exasperating little kiss to the side of the shaft before finally taking the head into her mouth with a contented little hum. Frank whines, hips rocking of their own volition. He fights to keep the motion small, for Joan and for the chair, and her little hands come up to hold him to it, just barely letting him move. If it were about strength it wouldn't work, but it isn't. Frank has felt kind of like this at work before, but this is fucking soul-deep. It's almost like he _can't_ move if Joan doesn't let him, and the part of him that should be scared of that is completely quiet. 

A glance down to watch Joan work makes him groan deep in his chest at the way her lips are stretched as she sinks down on him, swallowing and swallowing. She can't deepthroat him but she's teasing at the edges of it, pulling back a little just to go right back down. She has one hand wrapped around what she can't fit, squeezing gently, and the other comes up to cup his balls. He can't help but flinch a little, but relaxes immediately because she's so gentle.

As long as it's been as good as this is, Frank can't possibly last, and Joan sighs through her nose, swallowing around Frank with a contented little moan as he comes so hard it makes him see stars and forget how to breathe. All that anchors him are Joan's hands, stroking him until he's softening and oversensitive and then neatly knotting the condom before settling on his thighs, rubbing the same soothing pattern as before. Frank can't stop trembling, and as Joan kisses the inside of his knee and pulls his pants back up. It's such a tender gesture, not wanting him to have sit here exposed and cold even for the time it takes to untie him, and before he even knows it Frank is crying. It's the look of barely-contained panic on Joan's face that makes him realize, and he drops the vial to reach for her with his freed hands, pulling her into his lap and clinging to her.

"Sweetheart..." she says, reaching around his head to unbuckle the gag and Frank gulps in air, the tremors intensifying. He doesn't feel bad, he just feels a _lot_ , and he struggles for the words to say so.

All he actually does manage is, "I haven't... with anyone... since..." and then he can't go on and Joan is holding him so he can hide his face in her chest and attempt to get his shit together. 

She croons to him softly for a while, telling him what a good boy he is and just letting him cry. When he starts to snot up, she has him carry her to the bed, where she gets him some tissues from the ornamental box on the nightstand and lets him cling to her again. She presses kisses to his hair and keeps up her steady stream of soothing and praise. Once he's quieter, she finally lets him go long enough to take the damn bra off, and Frank sighs, burying his face in her skin again. He wants to latch onto one of her hard brown nipples and just suckle for a while, but it feels like he should ask and words are still beyond him, so he just breathes with her and slowly, slowly eases down or up or whatever from wherever the hell he is right now. Which opens up the field to worry about reciprocation, because he feels physically and emotionally wiped out but wants to be able to give Joan anything she wants.

"Miss?" he murmurs at last, looking up at her.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"I.. do you..."

"I'll tell you what I need from you," she says, silk over steel. Frank shivers and just lets her hold him and pet him for a while. "It will be a little while before I'm comfortable letting you do more for me. Control issues," she says, with a sad smile that makes Frank want to find and destroy every single person who has ever hurt Joan in her life.

He settles for saying, "yes, miss," and pressing a kiss over her heart.


End file.
